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I will remain Earl of Wessex, and Edwin may reign as king if he so

chooses."

"That cannot be, Harold. If the people of England call you to the throne,

it is your duty to accept the summons. You know that none other could guide

them as you can, for already for years you have been their ruler. They love

you, they trust in you, and it were a shame indeed if the love we bear each

other should stand in the way of what is above all things needful for the

good of England. You know well enough that when the national council meets

to choose a king the South will declare for you. But if Edwin and Morcar

influence Mercia and the North to declare for another, what remains but a

breaking up of the kingdom, with perhaps a great war?"

"I cannot do it, and I will not," Harold said, stopping in his walk and

standing before her. "My life, my work, all save you I will give up for

England--but you I will not."

Edith turned even paler than before. "You will not give me up, Harold, but

you cannot hold me. I can bear my life in seclusion and retirement, and can

even be happy in the thought of our past love, of your greatness, and in

the peace of England, which, I should have the consolation of knowing, was

due to the sacrifice that we had both made, but I could not live happy,

even with your love and your companionship, knowing that I have brought

woes upon England. Nor will I live so. Death will break the knot if you

will not do so, and I could die with a smile on my lips, knowing that I was

dying for your good and England's. If you will not break the bond death

shall do so, and ere to-morrow's sun rises, either by your sacrifice or by

my own hand, you will be free. Marry for the good of England. Here is the

ring by which you pledged your troth to me," and she took it from her

finger and dropped it in the fire that blazed on the hearth. "There is the

end of it, but not the end of our love. I shall think of you, and pray for

you always, Harold. Oh, my dear lord and master, do not make it too hard

for me!" and she threw herself on his neck in a passion of tears. For two

or three minutes they stood locked in each other's close embrace, then she

withdrew herself from his arms.

"Farewell," she said. "You have left my side many a time for battle, and we

parted bravely though we knew we might never meet again. Let us part so

now. We have each our battles to fight, but God will comfort us both, for

our sacrifice will have brought peace to England. Farewell, my dear lord,

farewell!" She touched his hand lightly and then tottered from the room,

falling senseless as soon as she had closed the door behind her.

Harold sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands, while his

breast heaved with short sobs. So he sat for some time; then he stood up.

"She is stronger and braver than I," he murmured; "but she is right. Only

by this sacrifice can England be saved, but even so I could not have made

it; but I know her so well that I feel she would carry out her threat

without hesitation." Then he went out of the house, but instead of

returning to the town took his way to the lonely path by the river, and

there for hours paced up and down. At last his mind was made up, the

sacrifice must be accepted. As she had said, their happiness must not stand

in the way of that of all England. He walked with a firm step back to

Oxford, and went straight to the house where Edwin and Morcar had taken up

their quarters.

"Tell Earl Edwin that Harold would speak with him," he said to the retainer

at the door. The man returned in a minute, and led the way to the room

where Edwin and his brother were standing awaiting him. They had had

several interviews since they arrived at Oxford, and supposed that he had

come to arrange some detail as to the assembly on the following day.

"Edwin," Harold said abruptly, "methinks that for the good of our country

it would be well that our houses should be united. Why should the sons of

Leofric and Godwin regard each other as rivals? We are earls of the English

people, and we cannot deny that the unfriendly feeling between us has

brought trouble on the country. Why should there not be an end of this?"

Greatly surprised at this frank address, Edwin and Morcar both hastened to

say that for their part they had no quarrel whatever with any of the house

of Godwin, save with Tostig.

"Tostig will soon be beyond the sea, and will no longer be a source of

trouble. There is, it seems to me, but one way by which we can unite and

bind our interests into one. I have come to you to ask for the hand of your

sister Ealdgyth in marriage."

The two earls looked at each other in surprise. The proposition was

altogether unexpected, but they at once saw its advantages. They knew as

well as others that the choice of the nation at Edward's death was likely

to fall upon Harold, and it would add both to their dignity and security

that they should be brothers-in-law of the king. Such an alliance would do

away with the danger, that once seated on the throne Harold might become

reconciled with Tostig, and endeavour to replace him in the earldom of

Northumbria. This danger would be dissipated by the marriage.

"You would perhaps like to consult together before giving an answer,"

Harold said courteously.

"By no means," Edwin said warmly. "Such an alliance is, as you say, in all

respects to be desired. Ealdgyth could wish for no nobler husband. We

should rejoice in obtaining such a spouse for her, and the union would

assuredly unite our families, do away with the unfriendly feeling of which

you spoke, and be of vast advantage to the realm in general. We need no

word of consultation, but accept your offer, and will with pleasure give

Ealdgyth in marriage to you. But is there not an obstacle?"

"The obstacle is at an end," Harold said gravely. "Of her own free will and

wish, and in order that there should be peace and union in England, the

Lady Edith has broken the tie that bound us."

The brothers, seeing that the subject was a painful one, wisely said no

more, but turned the conversation to the meeting on the following day, and

assured Harold that they hoped the decision would now be unanimous, and

then after a short time skilfully brought it round again to the subject of

the marriage. By nightfall the news was known throughout the city, and was

received with universal joy. The union seemed to all men a guarantee for

peace in England. The two great rival houses would now be bound by common

interests, and the feud that had several times been near breaking out into

civil war was extinguished.

The moment he returned to his house Harold called Wulf.

"Wulf, go at once to the Lady Edith. Tell her that though it has taken all

the brightness out of my life, and has made all my future dark, I have done

her bidding, and have sacrificed myself for England. Tell her that I will

write to her to-night, and send the letter to Hampton, where, I trust, it

will find her."

Wulf at once carried the message. He found Edith sitting with eyes swollen

with weeping, and yet with a calm and composed expression on her face.

"I knew that my lord would do as I prayed him," she said; "he has ever

thought first of England and then of himself. Tell him that I start in an

hour for Hampton, and shall there stay till I get his letter; there I will

answer it. Tell him I thank him from my heart, and that, much as I loved

and honoured him before, I shall to the end of my life love and honour him

yet more for having thus sacrificed himself for England. Tell him that you

found me calm and confident that he would grant my prayer, and that with

all my heart I wish him happiness."

Her lips quivered and her voice broke, and Wulf hurried away without saying

another word, for he felt that he himself was at the point of bursting into

tears. Harold was anxiously awaiting his return, and after listening to the

message turned abruptly and entered his private closet, with a wave of the

hand signifying that Wulf would not be further required.

The next day the Witenagemot met. It was solemnly decreed that all old

scores should be wiped out; that Northern and Southern England were again

to be reconciled, as they had been forty-seven years before in an assembly

held by Canute in Oxford. It was decreed unanimously that the laws of

Canute should be renewed, and should have force in all parts of the

kingdom.

Until this decision was arrived at by the assembly Tostig had remained with

the king, but he now went into exile, and crossed the sea to Flanders,

where he had at an earlier period of his life, when Godwin's whole family

were in disgrace, taken refuge. He was accompanied by his wife and many

personal adherents. He left filled with rage and bitterness, especially

against Harold, who ought, he considered, to have supported him to the

utmost, and who should have been ready to put the whole forces of Wessex in

the field to replace him in the earldom.

By the time that Harold returned to London Edith had left his abode at

Hampton. He would have gladly handed it over to her and maintained it as

before, but she would not hear of this, though she had accepted from him an

income which would enable her to live comfortably in seclusion.

"I only do this," she said in her letter to him, "because I know that it

would grieve you if I refused; but I entreat you, Harold, make no inquiries

whither I have gone. I do not say that we can never meet again, but years

must pass over before we do so. You must not think of me as always

grieving. I have done what I am sure is right, and this will give me

comfort, and enable me to bear your absence; but you know that, even if I

never see you again, you will dwell in my heart as long as I live, its sole

lord and master. I have so many happy memories to look back upon that I

should be sorely to blame did I repine, and although I may not share the

throne that will ere long be yours, nor the love which Englishmen will give

their king, I shall be none the less proud of you, and shall be sure that

there will be always in your heart a kind thought of me. Forbear, I pray

you earnestly, to cause any search to be made for me. Doubtless you might

discover me if you chose, but it would only renew my pain. In time we may

be able to meet calmly and affectionately, as two old friends, but till

then it were best that we stood altogether apart."

Harold put down the letter with a sigh. But he had little time to lament

over private troubles. The king was ill; he had not rallied from the state

of prostration that succeeded his outburst of passion when he found himself

powerless to put down the Northern insurrection by force, and to restore

his favourite Tostig to his earldom. Day succeeded day, but he did not

rally. In vain the monks most famous for their skill in medicine came from

Canterbury and Glastonbury; in vain prayers were offered up in all the

cathedrals, and especially in his own Abbey of Westminster, and soon the

report spread among the people that Edward, the king, was sick unto death,

and all felt that it was a misfortune for England.

Edward was in no sense of the word a great king. He was a monk rather than

a monarch. The greatest object of his life had been to rear an abbey that

in point of magnificence should rival the stateliest fane in England. To

that his chief care was devoted, and for many years he was well content to

leave the care of government to Harold. But after the monarchs who had

immediately preceded him, his merits, if of a passive kind, were warmly

appreciated by his subjects. His rule had been free from oppression, and he

had always desired that justice should be done to all. In the earlier part

of his reign he was Norman in tongue, in heart, and in education; but in

the latter years of his life he had become far more English in his

leanings, and there can be no doubt that he bitterly regretted the promise

he had rashly given to William of Normandy that he should succeed him.

It was not only because the people respected and even loved the king that

they were grieved to hear that his days were numbered, but because they saw

that his death would bring trouble on the land. With him the line of the

Oethelings would become extinct, save for the boy Edgar and his sisters.

The boy had been born beyond the sea, and was as much a foreigner as Edward

himself had been, and Edward's partiality for the Normans in the early

years of his reign had so angered the English that Edgar's claims would on

this account alone have been dismissed. Moreover, boys' hands were unfit to

hold the sceptre of England in such troubled times. It was to Harold that

all eyes turned. He had for years exercised at least joint authority with

Edward; he was the foremost and most noble of Englishmen. He was skilled in

war, and wise in counsel, and the charm of his manner, the strength and

stateliness of his figure, and the singular beauty of his face rendered him

the popular idol. And yet men felt that it was a new departure in English

life and customs for one who had in his veins no drop of royal blood to be

chosen as king. His sister was Edward's wife, he was Edward's friend and

counsellor, but although the men of the South felt that he was in all ways

fitted to be king, they saw too that Northumbria would assuredly stand

aloof, and that the Mercian earls, brothers-in-law as they were to be to

Harold, would yet feel jealous that one of their own rank was to be their

sovereign.

The Witan, as the representative of the nation, had alone the right of

choosing the sovereign; but though they had often passed over those who by

birth stood nearest to the throne, they had never yet chosen one altogether

outside the royal family. It was a necessary step--for young Edgar was not

to be thought of--and yet men felt uneasy, now that the time had come, at

so complete a departure from custom.

Rapidly the king grew worse, and prayers were uttered up for him in every